


Four Possibilities

by sherlockian4evr



Series: Sherlock's FanFics [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Frantic Sex, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Revelations, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson in Love, rated for later chapters, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 09:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14078232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: Sherlock tries to solve the case of who sent him the gift fic. Of course he makes it seem like a case he's working. John catches on and gives him just the right hints he needs to solve the case.Beta read bySherlock1110.





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock had been staring at John all day. It wasn’t really that unusual an occurrence, so the doctor ignored it. John was sat in his chair reading his new novel. He was rather enjoying it until it was ripped out of his hands and thrown across the room. “What the bloody hell! I mean, really, Sherlock. I was enjoying that book.”

“I have a case.” The detective started pacing the room. “My client has received correspondence containing material of an intimate nature, however he is unaware from whom said correspondence originated.”

“Alright. And you want to talk me through it. You could have just asked.” Honestly, John didn’t know why he let his friend get away with such nonsense.

“I perceive four possibilities as to the nature of the sender.” He listed the possibilities for John. “It’s either someone he knows who is playing some elaborate joke on him, someone he knows who is making a romantic overture, an admirer who has been stalking him, but is essentially harmless, or a stalker who poses a serious threat to him and possibly even his flatmate.”

John perked up at this. “You didn’t mention he had a flatmate.” Maybe his friend didn’t really have a client. Maybe he was really talking about John's fic.

Sherlock waved the comment away. “It's irrelevant unless the sender is a stalker, however, I don’t believe that to be the case. There are no threatening overtones in the correspondence. That leaves the other three possibilities to examine.” The detective kept pacing. “Nor do I believe it to be the work of some faceless admirer. There were simply too many details included for even a relatively harmless, but determined, stalker to have obtained knowledge.”

At that, John nodded. “So you think it’s someone your client knows.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Obviously. Based on my client's grating and frankly oppositional personality, it’s very unlikely to have been written as a romantic overture. No one who knows him would be interested in him in that fashion. That leaves the perpetrator as someone known to him who sent the correspondence as a practical joke.”

The doctor's suspicions were raised again. “Just because a person is generally considered difficult doesn’t mean someone can’t be interested in a romantic relationship. Besides, his flatmate clearly puts up with him. Unless his flatmate spends all his waking hours elsewhere, said flatmate probably even likes him.”

Sherlock scoffed. “Being friends with someone is hardly the same as having a romantic interest in that person.”

“True, but did you observe them together, look for signs of arousal like you do?” John's hear rate had sped up and he dearly hoped he was right about his friend not having an actual case. God, he wanted this whole thing out in the open. Sherlock just had to be OhCaptainMyCaptain and if he was... The doctor's cock stirred in his jeans and he felt like time stood still.

Sherlock turned to look at John. What he saw made his own heart race: dilated pupils, racing pulse at his carotid, likely sweating hands as John wiped his palms against his jeans. He took an involuntary step towards his flatmate. “John?” He took another step. “SleuthLover?”

The doctor looked up from his seated position, grinning. “OhCaptainMyCaptain?”

Sherlock’s knees gave way and he ended up knelt before John, his hands resting on the other man's knees. “It's not a joke?”

“It's anything but a joke, Sherlock. I love you.” John waited for a response, but the detective seemed to be in shock.


	2. Chapter 2

John looked at Sherlock who still seemed to be lost in his blinking, processing mode. In the hopes of speeding said processing along, John leant forward and pressed his lips to Sherlock’s. When he did, it was like a bolt of electricity shot through Sherlock.

Sherlock met his lips with a sloppy, eager kiss. There was no finesse in it, but the sheer enthusiasm more than made up for it.

John soon found himself pushed back in his chair and his lap full of one very gorgeous and eager consulting detective. He could feel Sherlock’s cock moving against his own, hot and hard, through his jeans. It was ridiculous, but if they didn’t slow down and change venue soon, he was sure they going to come in their pants just like in one of Sherlock’s fics.

“Hey, Sherlock, babe, slow down,” John said as soon as he could break away from the kiss. He had placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips and pushed him away slightly.

Sherlock glared at John, his lips already red and kiss swollen. John wasn’t sure if the glare was due to the pet name or because he had called a pause to the activities. No, he knew it wasn’t because of the pet name.

“Do you really want this to be over so soon?” John asked.

“Don't care. Want you now.” Sherlock lunged forward and took John's mouth with his own again and bloody hell, he couldn’t fight him off, not again. John just didn’t have that kind of willpower.

John thrust his hips up as best he could with Sherlock grinding down on him. His hands seemed to take on a life of their own, tugging Sherlock’s shirt out of his trousers and reaching under to feel the smooth plane of his back.

In turn, Sherlock held John’s face between the palm of his hands and kissed him frantically. It was like he couldn’t get enough, like he had been starving for John’s kisses all his life.

All too soon, Sherlock went rigid and gasped out John’s name as he came, then he collapsed in a heap on John.

“Oh, bloody buggering fuck!” Sherlock’s orgasm was the most beautiful thing John had ever seen, but he hadn’t managed to come himself and now he had the lanky, post orgasmic git draped all over him.

John shifted Sherlock without dislodging him and managed to get his jeans open and his cock out. Grasping it, he thrust into his own hand with frantic determination, his own precome easing his way. He closed his eyes and pictured the way Sherlock had looked when he came. With that rapturous image in his mind, it didn’t take long for him to tip over into an orgasm of his own, one that shook him from his core outwards.

When it was finished, John chuckled, unable to believe what had just happened. It really had been ridiculously like one of Sherlock’s fics.

Sherlock roused a bit and curled around John, not seeming to mind the mess John had made nor the stickiness in his own pants. “That was most agreeable.”

“Mm. Yes it was.” John rested his head atop Sherlock’s, enjoying the feel of Sherlock’s silky curls against his cheek. “We really should get cleaned up, you know. It’s going to start feeling uncomfortable very soon.”

Sherlock sighed. “If we must.” Then he brightened up. “It would be more practical if we showered together, don’t you think?”

John's cock surprised him by giving an interested twitch. “By more practical, you mean you want to have shower sex.”

“I want to try every kind of sex with you, John.” He stood up, taking John's hand, and dragged him, unresisting, towards the bathroom. He had a whole new series of experiments to conduct after all.


	3. Chapter 3

It was early morning and Sherlock was laying next to John, thinking. After several days of experimentation, Sherlock had come to the conclusion he quite liked having sex with John. When he imagined having sex with anyone else, he was repulsed by the very thought. Obviously John was the key component in the equation.

As for John, he was thinking similar thoughts. He had had sex on three continents with a number of partners, some of them quite skilled. None of those experiences, not one, was equal to even a moment spent with Sherlock. It turned out love truly made all the difference. It changed mere sex to lovemaking, even when it was heated, slow, or just plain silly. He’d never see sex the same way again and he’d certainly never want it with anyone else.

John rolled onto his side to face Sherlock and was delighted to find Sherlock smiling at him suggestively.

“Good morning, genius. What are you going to use that big brain of yours for this morning?” John asked, a smile in his voice.

Sherlock didn’t say anything, just disappeared under the bedclothes and crawled down the length of John’s body. When he got into position, he took John’s cock in his mouth and swirled his tongue around the head.

John gasped and, for a few moments, froze, held in place by the wonderful sensations he was experiencing. Soon enough, however, he came back to himself. He couldn’t miss seeing this. He’d witnessed it before and knew it was bloody gorgeous. John flicked the bedclothes off of them and looked down to where his cock disappeared between Sherlock’s cupids bow lips. Just as before, the sight was almost enough to make him come of itself. 

Sherlock, whilst working John’s cock, looked up at him through his lashes and smirked, no mean feat whilst giving an incredible blow job. When his eyes locked with John's, John bucked up once into his mouth, then came. Sherlock swallowed every drop as he milked John through his orgasm, then he pulled off. Sherlock sat back and started stroking his own cock. “You were brilliant, John. Beautiful.” 

John laughed, embarrassed. He propped himself up on his elbows. “No, babe. You’re the brilliant one.” John watched Sherlock as he came, Sherlock’s long slim body arching as his come shot out. “And you’re bloody, bloody gorgeous too, babe.” He grabbed a flannel from the bedside table and gave them both a cursory cleaning.

Afterwards, they lay together, sated, their arms and legs tangled together. On the bedside table, Sherlock’s phone chimed. From the sound it made, both John and Sherlock could tell it was Lestrade calling.

“Aren't you going to answer that?” John asked laconically.

“Mm, whatever it is, Lestrade can wait.” Sherlock curled up around John, shifting his limbs to do so.

John chuckled. “As much as I’m enjoying this, that’s the fourth time he’s rang.” He kissed Sherlock’s temple. “Time to join the real world, babe.”

Sherlock let out a puff of air, then a few moments later got up, resigned. “I’m only going because Lestrade is obviously hopelessly lost without me.” He walked proudly towards the bathroom and John took the chance to thoroughly enjoy the view.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to podfic or translate this or create a drawing based on it, go for it. Just please let me know and link back to my fic.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://shippingintothenight.tumblr.com).


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